tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-302061672020-05-26T01:56:23.437-04:00I Miss My ChildhoodA Collection of MemoriesChellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.comBlogger668125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-69540819464817827362018-08-06T13:12:00.001-04:002018-08-06T13:23:43.458-04:00RIP Charlotte Rae (a.k.a Mrs. Garrett)<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">Different Strokes would not have been the same without you <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/CharlotteRae?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#CharlotteRae</a>. You were loved by everyone on our show and you were loved by everyone on the facts of life will miss you "My heart is full of Pain" Rest in peace my friend <a href="https://t.co/8FbterNz3S">pic.twitter.com/8FbterNz3S</a></div>— Todd Bridges (@ToddBridges) <a href="https://twitter.com/ToddBridges/status/1026299846280396801?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">August 6, 2018</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> Charlotte Rae, the Broadway actress who played the beloved housekeeper on<b> Diff'rent Strokes</b> and the nutritionist/housemother on <b>The Facts of Life</b> <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/06/obituaries/charlotte-rae-dead.html">passed away</a> on August 5, 2018 at the age of 92. Like Florence Henderson's "Mrs. Brady", Ann B. Davis' "Alice" or Marion Ross' "Mrs. Cunningham", Rae's "Mrs. Garrett" was a beloved fictional TV matriarch that featured prominently in the 1970s/80s and remained a pop-culture staple. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hmSgRpQcfRc/W2h-gCHrcBI/AAAAAAAAIOE/QCOgQ0HG6aIVzoMSJF4BQQGUj5JJTT8cgCLcBGAs/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="885" data-original-width="1100" height="321" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hmSgRpQcfRc/W2h-gCHrcBI/AAAAAAAAIOE/QCOgQ0HG6aIVzoMSJF4BQQGUj5JJTT8cgCLcBGAs/s400/image.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s6pff-VGiEA/W2h-lIfP_gI/AAAAAAAAIOI/nI6zdKorYF0dlvnqnk-LX2x7HLkRQ30IwCLcBGAs/s1600/cr2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="560" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s6pff-VGiEA/W2h-lIfP_gI/AAAAAAAAIOI/nI6zdKorYF0dlvnqnk-LX2x7HLkRQ30IwCLcBGAs/s400/cr2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">An outpouring of tributes followed the news of her passing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">RIP IN PEACE ALL OF MY CAST MATES. I MISS YOU ALL. <a href="https://t.co/tS52TfryKo">pic.twitter.com/tS52TfryKo</a></div>— Todd Bridges (@ToddBridges) <a href="https://twitter.com/ToddBridges/status/1026302504621887489?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">August 6, 2018</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">You all already know my heart is heavy yet.... sorry, no words at the moment just love and tears... and yeah, smiles.... <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/charlotterae?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#charlotterae</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/ripcharlotterae?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#ripcharlotterae</a></div>— Kim Fields (@KimVFields) <a href="https://twitter.com/KimVFields/status/1026296973542998016?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">August 6, 2018</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">Thank you, Charlotte, for 40 years of friendship and love. You will be missed. 🙏💕 <a href="https://t.co/ywmPwepdvm">pic.twitter.com/ywmPwepdvm</a></div>— Lisa Whelchel (@LisaWhelchel) <a href="https://twitter.com/LisaWhelchel/status/1026424530384891904?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">August 6, 2018</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-permalink="https://www.instagram.com/p/BmHwPaLAfYR/?utm_source=ig_embed" data-instgrm-version="9" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 540px; min-width: 326px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;"><div style="padding: 8px;"><div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 50.0% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;"><div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;"></div></div><div style="margin: 8px 0 0 0; padding: 0 4px;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BmHwPaLAfYR/?utm_source=ig_embed" style="color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">it’s with a heavy heart &amp; lots of tears (but a smile as i think of her) that I now move through the world without this incredible force of a woman being in it. she was my champion, a teacher, a proud example of the tenacity and perseverance needed to live an actor’s life. i love you char. i will continue to make you proud. and, as I send sympathies to larry and the rest of the family, I wish you the happiest of homecomings. #ripcharlotterae 💔 #ohwhatalife #mwah #tilwemeetagain #thankyou</a></div><div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;">A post shared by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/mindycohn/?utm_source=ig_embed" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px;" target="_blank"> mindy cohn</a> (@mindycohn) on <time datetime="2018-08-06T02:45:26+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Aug 5, 2018 at 7:45pm PDT</time></div></div></blockquote><script async="" defer="" src="//www.instagram.com/embed.js"></script>Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-37183595128967236922018-07-02T20:33:00.000-04:002018-07-02T21:02:26.338-04:00RIP Alan Longmuir<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E3cmajyuASY/WzqZr1s1VbI/AAAAAAAAIM4/Tzr9OcutopYysCxae2iF_I6ivdZj4OvPACLcBGAs/s1600/bay-city-rollers-alan-longmuir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="616" data-original-width="1096" height="223" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E3cmajyuASY/WzqZr1s1VbI/AAAAAAAAIM4/Tzr9OcutopYysCxae2iF_I6ivdZj4OvPACLcBGAs/s400/bay-city-rollers-alan-longmuir.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fvPYLgS002s/WzqZsCb5DZI/AAAAAAAAIM8/0EG1IFRkQwYOe-V7MqBq40wkj4XZ-okqACLcBGAs/s1600/rollers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="624" height="223" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fvPYLgS002s/WzqZsCb5DZI/AAAAAAAAIM8/0EG1IFRkQwYOe-V7MqBq40wkj4XZ-okqACLcBGAs/s400/rollers.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Alan Longmuir (second from left, in both pics)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Alan Longmuir, the bass guitarist, keyboardist, vocalist and a founding member of the 1970s Scottish pop band "The Bay City Rollers", passed away Monday, July 2, 2018 after a brief illness. He was 70 years old. <br /><br />Dubbed the “tartan teen sensations from Edinburgh”, the band in their heyday had chart-topping U.K. singles with “Bye Bye Baby” and “Shang-a-Lang,”; and in 1976, had their U.S. breakthrough with “Saturday Night”. They sold more than 100 million records, triggered "Rollermania" worldwide and even briefly had their own show.<br /><br />When I was <a href="http://imissmychildhood.blogspot.com/2007/04/five-years-old.html">a little kid in the 1970s</a>, <b>The Bay City Rollers</b> were my jam. They wore tartan outfits and sang catchy and sugary sweet tunes that made me happy. They're embedded into my early years. Their music brings it all back. RIP Alan. You are fondly remembered.<br /><br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="und"><a href="https://t.co/0qfmIyyVeI">pic.twitter.com/0qfmIyyVeI</a></div>— Les McKeown (@LesMcKeownUK) <a href="https://twitter.com/LesMcKeownUK/status/1013698652446056448?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">July 2, 2018</a></blockquote><br /><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script><br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">Statement from Eileen and <a href="https://twitter.com/alanlongmuirbcr?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@alanlongmuirbcr</a>’s family... <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/BayCityRollers?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#BayCityRollers</a> <a href="https://t.co/KNGVSIgMbu">pic.twitter.com/KNGVSIgMbu</a></div>— Líam Rudden 🧢 (@LiamRudden) <a href="https://twitter.com/LiamRudden/status/1013701295797080064?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">July 2, 2018</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-63640850033260550922018-05-16T11:51:00.000-04:002018-05-16T15:19:25.533-04:00Secret Railroad: Jolly Roger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LvkBqv7ZKKo/WvyCKVMgvoI/AAAAAAAAIK8/G7T0-z7F9zwAjWxNqTVYRu9B_0XGl8DjACLcBGAs/s1600/SR.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LvkBqv7ZKKo/WvyCKVMgvoI/AAAAAAAAIK8/G7T0-z7F9zwAjWxNqTVYRu9B_0XGl8DjACLcBGAs/s400/SR.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />Here's a lovely treat. After some clever deductions, a wonderful reader from Greece has uploaded an episode (in English) of <b>The Secret Railroad</b> for us to enjoy on YouTube!!! Here's how they did it:<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span class="im"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.blogger.com/profile/17514807728793958485&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1526571044584000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGQ9GABXpI03RmDQSLjK7Z4K3yDMQ" href="https://www.blogger.com/profile/17514807728793958485" target="_blank">ss sk</a> has left a new comment on your post "<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=http://imissmychildhood.blogspot.com/2006/07/secret-railroad.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1526571044584000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHVyNqwcpg8ZyYt2EDNGrsbZ7MP2Q" href="http://imissmychildhood.blogspot.com/2006/07/secret-railroad.html" target="_blank">The Secret Railroad</a>": <br /><br />"More greetings from Greece. It seems we were blessed that those in charge of the kids programme on Greek national television during the 80's had good taste.<br /><br />After reading the wiki page I realised there is another source for our beloved animation: The Great Space Coaster. I decided to check it out on Youtube and luckily one of the few uploaded episodes includes some "Secret Railroad" for us! Split in two parts, I managed to extract, join and upload it here (<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v%3DcfHQfrIoC0Q&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1526571044584000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGQC3zwYerZMVoGBbxqaCNwjL3HTg" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfHQfrIoC0Q" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/<wbr></wbr>watch?v=cfHQfrIoC0Q</a>). <br /><br />I trust it's the "Joly Roger railroad" episode. The quality is horrible, my editing software is basic (and it shows) but at least it's in English!<br /><br />Funs of "Coaster" were (still are?) trying to crowdfund the digital transferring of the original tapes (they have all the episodes) before they age beyond salvation (<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/save-the-great-space-coaster%23/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1526571044584000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH9okXHFfEI_9EgAnsAerIYMsAFUw" href="https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/save-the-great-space-coaster#/" target="_blank">https://www.indiegogo.com/<wbr></wbr>projects/save-the-great-space-<wbr></wbr>coaster#/</a>). That was a long time ago and I don't know the outcome. But still, we get something extra to expect from."</span></blockquote><br />Many thanks to "<span class="im"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.blogger.com/profile/17514807728793958485&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1526571044584000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGQ9GABXpI03RmDQSLjK7Z4K3yDMQ" href="https://www.blogger.com/profile/17514807728793958485" target="_blank">ss sk</a></span>"! For those curious about the cartoon and its <b>devoted </b>fan base, read my <a href="http://imissmychildhood.blogspot.ca/2006/07/secret-railroad.html">previous post</a> and its <b>comment thread</b>. At long last, a glimpse of a much loved but elusive childhood favourite. Enjoy!<br /><br /><iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cfHQfrIoC0Q" width="560"></iframe><br />Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-39650062690482934362018-04-26T16:08:00.001-04:002018-04-26T19:43:10.413-04:00Schoohouse Rock: RIP Bob Dorough<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Biv-Wtnpe18/WuJj3fOzt0I/AAAAAAAAIJ0/MeJ_tug5udQ8wkRdMLPHd6cqMDsGFAeHwCLcBGAs/s1600/schoolhouse_rock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Biv-Wtnpe18/WuJj3fOzt0I/AAAAAAAAIJ0/MeJ_tug5udQ8wkRdMLPHd6cqMDsGFAeHwCLcBGAs/s400/schoolhouse_rock.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><b>Bob Dorough</b> (<span class="st">December 12, 1923 – April 23, 2018</span>), the jazz musician (composer/singer) who masterminded the unforgettable tunes featured on <b>Schoolhouse Rock</b>—the educational animated series that mesmerized legions of children Saturday mornings in the 1970s and 1980s, sadly passed away earlier this week. He was 94.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wky1w8qMa-s/WuJj8MQX7ZI/AAAAAAAAIJ4/-kxj7DAbyP47elcSxWENJN-OZgVRTKNHACLcBGAs/s1600/conjunc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="437" data-original-width="769" height="226" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wky1w8qMa-s/WuJj8MQX7ZI/AAAAAAAAIJ4/-kxj7DAbyP47elcSxWENJN-OZgVRTKNHACLcBGAs/s400/conjunc.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><br />Some of his songs included: "Conjunction Junction (What's Your Function?)", "I'm Just a Bill", "My Hero Zero", "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly, Get Your Adverbs Here", "Ready or Not Here I Come", "Three is a Magic Number", and "Electricity, Electricity".<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VpeqOOlGSwI/WuJkAeZDK0I/AAAAAAAAIJ8/KHKwDwzuy8IJ-_E2T2GnUYKVypwHuBA6ACLcBGAs/s1600/bill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="167" data-original-width="220" height="242" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VpeqOOlGSwI/WuJkAeZDK0I/AAAAAAAAIJ8/KHKwDwzuy8IJ-_E2T2GnUYKVypwHuBA6ACLcBGAs/s320/bill.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />It was a fun time to be a kid. And he was a legend. RIP. <br /><br /><br /><iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/l6MinvU93kI" width="560"></iframe><br /><br /><iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RPoBE-E8VOc" width="560"></iframe> <br /><br /><br />Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-729496897456085662017-11-22T19:31:00.001-05:002017-11-22T19:36:34.776-05:00RIP David Cassidy 1950-2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pazaFZ_z9ZA/WhYXuVe3e0I/AAAAAAAAIFc/AMSTBNtxHjkzzslGfdaey_z9FtNYOMHKgCLcBGAs/s1600/dc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="780" height="359" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pazaFZ_z9ZA/WhYXuVe3e0I/AAAAAAAAIFc/AMSTBNtxHjkzzslGfdaey_z9FtNYOMHKgCLcBGAs/s640/dc.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">When I was a little boy and my big brother would come to visit, the first call of business would be a punishing pillow fight. During the battle, he would regale me with hysterical stories of our father, often culminating in his taking a giant leap off my top bunk...</div>— Shaun Cassidy (@shaunpcassidy) <a href="https://twitter.com/shaunpcassidy/status/933365449445822464?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">November 22, 2017</a></blockquote><br /><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script><br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">...I tried to catch him of course. I always tried to catch him. But I never could. Now, I will carry him, along with all of the funny/sad/extraordinary days we shared, none more filled with love than these last few at his side. <a href="https://t.co/nc4w9HdTLC">pic.twitter.com/nc4w9HdTLC</a></div>— Shaun Cassidy (@shaunpcassidy) <a href="https://twitter.com/shaunpcassidy/status/933365622188204032?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">November 22, 2017</a></blockquote><br /><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script><br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">I️ have known, loved, and admired David Cassidy for 48 out of my 58 years. He has been as kind to me as any real brother could ever be. We’ve been through a lot together and he was always there for me. This loss is huge. RIP my dear friend. <a href="https://t.co/eKdRyAuW2B">pic.twitter.com/eKdRyAuW2B</a></div>— Danny Bonaduce (@TheDoochMan) <a href="https://twitter.com/TheDoochMan/status/933281295999913984?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">November 22, 2017</a></blockquote><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qKeXRQPeojo/VbRQrh56yoI/AAAAAAAAHdg/tqLiTJRIFDs/s1600/pf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qKeXRQPeojo/VbRQrh56yoI/AAAAAAAAHdg/tqLiTJRIFDs/s400/pf.jpg" width="285" /></a></div><br /><br />Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-58657734408208145252017-08-19T23:37:00.001-04:002017-08-19T23:51:42.883-04:00Eclipse<blockquote class="twitter-video" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">"May the shadow of the moon fall on a world at peace." ABC News report from February 26, 1979 about the world of August 21, 2017 <a href="https://t.co/oRK0mwAoLm">pic.twitter.com/oRK0mwAoLm</a></div>— Matt Novak (@paleofuture) <a href="https://twitter.com/paleofuture/status/898585002169966592">August 18, 2017</a></blockquote>&nbsp;Via <a href="https://twitter.com/paleofuture/status/898585002169966592">Twitter </a><br /><br />As we approach the solar eclipse on August 21, 2017, a lovely clip from <b>ABC News</b> circa February 26, 1979 (the date of the last solar eclipse) has been making the rounds. In the video, the anchor rather beautifully says: "<b>That's it, the last solar eclipse to be seen on this continent, in this century</b>". He reminds the audience that only in 38 years will another "<b>eclipse be visible from North America</b>".<br /><br />I remember walking home from school that afternoon in February 1979 with my mother and brother. Mum tightly held onto our hands and sternly reminded us: "<b>Don't look up! Keep your heads down.</b>" So we stared at the snowy ground below us, all the way home, in awe and amazement of what was transpiring.<br /><br /><br />As the reporter signs off, he says: "<b>May the shadow of the moon fall on a world at peace.</b>"<br /><br />Amen. <br /><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-14315572386874676872017-06-10T17:06:00.002-04:002017-06-10T17:08:35.759-04:00RIP Adam West<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0mAVbPwWvvM/WTxacdpZ1FI/AAAAAAAAIBI/QSYiYZmMESQY16ZXESUzXWXOhaVWZVU-wCLcB/s1600/gcduelNf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="624" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0mAVbPwWvvM/WTxacdpZ1FI/AAAAAAAAIBI/QSYiYZmMESQY16ZXESUzXWXOhaVWZVU-wCLcB/s320/gcduelNf.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">September 19, 1928- June 9, 2017</span></td></tr></tbody></table>Whether he was The Caped Crusader or the Mayor of Quahog, everything Adam West did was iconic. He graced so many of our childhoods as a super hero and thanks to that beautiful voice we were blessed to have him in our lives as we grew older. What a loss. What a legend. RIP you lovely man.<br /><br /><blockquote class="twitter-video" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">Remembering Adam West: 1928-2017 <a href="https://t.co/g64hMxld62">pic.twitter.com/g64hMxld62</a></div>— IMDb (@IMDb) <a href="https://twitter.com/IMDb/status/873633782292770816">June 10, 2017</a></blockquote><br /><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/eDC78eOFPdM" width="560"></iframe><br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">Our beloved AW passed away last night. He was the greatest. We'll miss him like crazy. We know you'll miss him too - West Family <a href="https://t.co/8bkEq1C2ao">pic.twitter.com/8bkEq1C2ao</a></div>— Adam West (@therealadamwest) <a href="https://twitter.com/therealadamwest/status/873571824423936000">June 10, 2017</a></blockquote><br /><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4PB1SAhtw6Y/WTxextBWDgI/AAAAAAAAIBg/wna278h81cMtWxj-lnP5k0m_uv5-vNN7wCLcB/s1600/Simpsons-Adam-West.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4PB1SAhtw6Y/WTxextBWDgI/AAAAAAAAIBg/wna278h81cMtWxj-lnP5k0m_uv5-vNN7wCLcB/s320/Simpsons-Adam-West.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Adam West on The Simpsons</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uA4-bQy9Aso/WTxc3F_vpJI/AAAAAAAAIBY/OWRxkJXhBqIPwjY7VYZETkvBDBF2fJNZgCLcB/s1600/32764_1216059163521_350_278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="278" data-original-width="350" height="254" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uA4-bQy9Aso/WTxc3F_vpJI/AAAAAAAAIBY/OWRxkJXhBqIPwjY7VYZETkvBDBF2fJNZgCLcB/s320/32764_1216059163521_350_278.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mayor of Quahog: Adam West (Family Guy)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v5DB3yDhrXw/WTxe1khRu5I/AAAAAAAAIBk/Q-CDkt9dH1MsJm1TGB0sQNT2L1v1JVI3ACLcB/s1600/batman_tv_1960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="652" data-original-width="926" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v5DB3yDhrXw/WTxe1khRu5I/AAAAAAAAIBk/Q-CDkt9dH1MsJm1TGB0sQNT2L1v1JVI3ACLcB/s320/batman_tv_1960.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">From the iconic 1960s Batman series</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-47536251517159484072017-05-14T02:03:00.002-04:002017-05-14T02:26:02.640-04:00Dream Come True<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxWkbhl0_Zc/WRY4QF2DyjI/AAAAAAAAH-0/BztnhE0SzJIiV_Vob8F-3Puyk1X5Hbz4wCLcB/s1600/mummyme3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxWkbhl0_Zc/WRY4QF2DyjI/AAAAAAAAH-0/BztnhE0SzJIiV_Vob8F-3Puyk1X5Hbz4wCLcB/s320/mummyme3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mum in black and white on the right, circa late 1940s <br />Me in colour on the left (2 pics), circa late 1970s</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />As Jackie mentioned in her lovely tribute to her beautiful mother (see <a href="http://imissmychildhood.blogspot.ca/2017/05/dear-mama.html">previous post</a>), we both not only have in recent years mourned our beloved mothers but we've been so profoundly blessed to have had such strong and loving relationships with them throughout our lives. As we write and reminisce over our childhoods, our words and experiences attest that our earliest journeys were so deeply intertwined with our mothers—their compassion, wisdom, charm, humour and sense of adventure follows and guides us wherever we go.<br /><br />As anyone who has lost a family member will know, grief is a daily battle but love doesn't die; it just seems to grow. My mother's influence in my life is as vibrant now as it has ever been. <br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uef2ojvBzX8/WRZO39v-WFI/AAAAAAAAH_o/smRGGxCp03UdnVdD1UAwy9oiVcxmcF4YQCLcB/s1600/mum%252Bnurse2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uef2ojvBzX8/WRZO39v-WFI/AAAAAAAAH_o/smRGGxCp03UdnVdD1UAwy9oiVcxmcF4YQCLcB/s320/mum%252Bnurse2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My mother Susee, as a student nurse (and midwife) in India 1961</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Ever since I was a kid, I longed for a photograph of my beloved mother as a little girl. <br /><br />To have just one glimpse of her in childhood would have made my life. Of course, we had wonderful and iconic photographs of my mother during her teens and twenties but never one from her girlhood. Amid my desperate pleas, Mum would often lovingly console me:<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">"<i>Not everyone had cameras back then, Amma (daughter). That's just how those days were.</i>"</blockquote><br />Flash forward to October 2016: an inconspicuous visit by a family member living in the U.S. to an old friend, paved the way for my lifelong dream to come true.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RUNPRmWWKuo/WRY6eqRNXMI/AAAAAAAAH_A/AoVM3up5n8kgcjo5AyC__5qxI2YnCr34QCLcB/s1600/Susee_Mable_Age_6_Flaiz_Memorial_High_School_WGD_AP_close_up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RUNPRmWWKuo/WRY6eqRNXMI/AAAAAAAAH_A/AoVM3up5n8kgcjo5AyC__5qxI2YnCr34QCLcB/s200/Susee_Mable_Age_6_Flaiz_Memorial_High_School_WGD_AP_close_up.jpg" width="183" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mum, circa 1947</span></td></tr></tbody></table>At the home of his friend, my uncle stumbled upon an old black and white school photo circa 1947. As school photos go, it was standard fare with rows of neatly groomed teachers and students in classic school day poses. As my uncle searched for familiar faces, the sweet-faced little girl at the bottom of the photograph made him stop in his tracks. My uncle excitedly exclaimed:<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">"<i>I remember that little face.</i>" </blockquote><br />His old friend as it turned out was one of my mother's former <b>teachers </b>from her Adventist alma mater in India during the late 1940s. This retired school teacher had the <b>holy grail</b> that I had spent four decades looking for. <br /><br />My uncle, kindly made a copy and sent the priceless photograph to my dumbfounded family.<br /><br />My brother, father and I wept tears of joy, and in one instant: felt such deep and abiding love for (and from) my mother and relived the heartache and immediacy of her loss. It was such a powerful and unforgettable moment.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Un49N9FAUGA/WRY7eY82iQI/AAAAAAAAH_I/tOrvryJkhw4zmcgjJWTACC2nVLx2F9Z6QCLcB/s1600/happy%252Btimes%252Bcollage2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Un49N9FAUGA/WRY7eY82iQI/AAAAAAAAH_I/tOrvryJkhw4zmcgjJWTACC2nVLx2F9Z6QCLcB/s200/happy%252Btimes%252Bcollage2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mama Bear and her cubs</span></td></tr></tbody></table>For me, receiving my mother's childhood photo was both a gift and a dream come true. An <b>heirloom </b>for the ages. It was like a message from my mother across <b>time </b>and <b>space</b>. I had spent decades praying, wishing and searching for her childhood photograph and it somehow found its way back to me—a year and a half after her passing.<br /><br />Not only did I get to see what my mother looked like as a child but it confirmed what my mother always told me:<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">"<i>I looked just like you did!</i>"</blockquote><br />She truly did. The photograph above leaves me speechless. A carbon copy of how I looked in kindergarten. It's as if I existed in a photograph thirty years before my time.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9n2gQ22FmGc/WRZEHV4V3uI/AAAAAAAAH_Y/OxzMTrSd6bUyRIc3gUrxoyfwQR-LR4HJwCLcB/s1600/mumchellcouch2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9n2gQ22FmGc/WRZEHV4V3uI/AAAAAAAAH_Y/OxzMTrSd6bUyRIc3gUrxoyfwQR-LR4HJwCLcB/s200/mumchellcouch2.jpg" width="165" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Best friends forever</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />My mother and I were so close. She was my best friend and the love of my life. It's as if heaven sent Mum back to me. I waited over four decades for my dream to come true. <b>It was worth the wait.</b><br /><br />Whenever Mother's Day approaches, there's always that pang—that gut-wrenching feeling that says: <i>you're not here and I'm not done loving you or looking after you</i>. It's that dance with grief and stability, that's so tough. But somehow, inexplicably, strength kicks in and you keep moving. It's that overwhelming feeling of love and being loved that gets you through. I wish this for everyone. Happy Mother's Day everyone.<br /><br />And Happy Mother's Day Mama. Love you. 💗<br /><br /><br />Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-85609088041779213752017-05-12T11:31:00.000-04:002017-05-12T11:32:30.349-04:00Dear MamaIt's Mother's Day Weekend all over, and though it is being recognized officially on Sunday, you know that we wanted to get started celebrating early here at "I Miss My Childhood". As we stated before, Chelly and I have so many warm, funny as well as serious, but all loving memories of our beautiful mothers. May they both rest in peace and maybe hang out together this weekend knowing their daughters are collaborating over them... have a little glass of wine and smile at us from that next dimension they're partying in... We Love You Mom!!!<br /><br />So I think what I personally want to do, since we always share so many stories already is to encourage not only us, but YOU, THE READER, to share some of your memories with us below in the comments... We'll share any we think of there too. Let's celebrate those ladies that brought us into the world, whether in person this weekend, or in spirit and ultimately with unconditional LOVE.<br /><br />Here's my tribute... please add as much as you want, share with us. xoxo<br /><br />Your favorite Aunt Jackie<br />(Who Misses Her Childhood)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c3X3rBM0YM0/WRXVE-pnTYI/AAAAAAAAQq8/aRizbopvwZoDFbGBXMWjgwe2yVUoKqZCACLcB/s1600/export1860573376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c3X3rBM0YM0/WRXVE-pnTYI/AAAAAAAAQq8/aRizbopvwZoDFbGBXMWjgwe2yVUoKqZCACLcB/s400/export1860573376.jpg" width="337" /></a></div>Aunt Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12337893244898589609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-27313881137546384752017-05-01T15:38:00.000-04:002017-05-01T15:40:57.593-04:00Happy May Day!Well dear visitors and lovers of "I Miss My Childhood", it is May 1st. I cannot believe the year is already nearly half over, it is speeding by so fast.<br /><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bbc-az39PKE/WQeMJrTJ06I/AAAAAAAAQoA/Ssddu44pDWkKP48sdpryRxcFNZi5gJz5ACLcB/s1600/Maypole_Dancing_at_Bishopstone_Church%252C_Sussex_-_geograph.org.uk_-_727031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bbc-az39PKE/WQeMJrTJ06I/AAAAAAAAQoA/Ssddu44pDWkKP48sdpryRxcFNZi5gJz5ACLcB/s320/Maypole_Dancing_at_Bishopstone_Church%252C_Sussex_-_geograph.org.uk_-_727031.jpg" width="193" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Maypole Dancing<br /><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=13392533" target="_blank">By Kevin Gordon, CC BY-SA 2.0</a></td></tr></tbody></table>Today is several things, according to <a href="http://www.holidays-and-observances.com/may-1.html" target="_blank">Holidays and Observances</a> (a lil website I use to find interesting things to blog about, and most of the time it really helps with the writing prompts). Check it out, and find out all of the holidays and observances in May, pretty interesting.</div><div><br /></div><div>Most popular, I guess would be <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/May_Day" target="_blank">May Day</a>, which is celebrated in many ways in many lands. I have always been a little enthralled over the "Maypole" tradition, as I have never had a chance or cause to be a part of this type of celebration. So for any of you that have, please share your experiences with me in the comments.</div><br />So apparently May 1st &nbsp;- 7th is "National Children's Book Week". This made me remember fondly all of those cool book fairs back in elementary school. Oh when they would pass out those flyers, and then the bookmobile came, it was such an exciting treat. They had all kinds of books, magazines for kids too, I think, and even though I wouldn't say that I was the most voracious of readers, I adored books. I used to love going through the library, seeking out books and flipping through them. Don't get me wrong, when I make friends with a particularly interesting book, one that truly captures my attention, I will read it from cover to cover. I enjoy reading, I am just extremely easily distracted, so I've never read thousands, that's for sure. Books are just awesome though, and in this digital age, it is still such a cherished joy to hold an actual book in your hands, feeling the paper, smelling the pages and enjoying a story coming to life.<br /><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yvZmmrE6Nnc/WQeOBSaxMJI/AAAAAAAAQoM/rf7CG_LPUSMC4_ZSCu45kDnUz4IXd768gCLcB/s1600/troll2-1300896069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yvZmmrE6Nnc/WQeOBSaxMJI/AAAAAAAAQoM/rf7CG_LPUSMC4_ZSCu45kDnUz4IXd768gCLcB/s320/troll2-1300896069.jpg" width="234" /></a><span style="text-align: center;">Did you read a lot as a child? Do you remember the Scholastic Book Fairs?&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span><span style="text-align: center;">Did your school(s)&nbsp;</span>even have them? Please leave us a comment and join in the fun of these wonderful memories that we share for you here at "I Miss My Childhood". I go back and read a few of those books we read as children, sometimes, you know, just to keep in touch. Don't let the inner child stray too far.<br /><br />Happy May Day! Go celebrate the season, and have fun!!<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />Aunt JackieAunt Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12337893244898589609noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-85394463389193678602017-04-28T12:03:00.000-04:002017-04-28T12:07:41.585-04:00Eeyore's Birthday PartyMost of us have an affection for Winnie the Pooh and gang, if not at least an appreciation for them as they were a heavy presence in most of our childhoods. I, myself always liked these cartoons, and at times felt I most identified with Tigger. However, there have been plenty of moments that I felt more like Eeyore, the lovable but perpetually pessimistic and depressed Donkey. I think we all have a great deal of both in our lives, and that's why it is important to be kind to one another, pay the love forward whenever we can, kiss and make-up whenever possible, and forgive often, even when we might not receive the apology we so desperately feel we deserve. This is Life, nothing is permanent or set in stone. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DKqHfnbcVGU/WQNnoEfGW8I/AAAAAAAAQmY/xM6tRr8oJdU3eTVmDpuCvZdVNjbu4ZF2QCLcB/s1600/1f711157eed5c2f2b76c0ae3ff19f324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DKqHfnbcVGU/WQNnoEfGW8I/AAAAAAAAQmY/xM6tRr8oJdU3eTVmDpuCvZdVNjbu4ZF2QCLcB/s200/1f711157eed5c2f2b76c0ae3ff19f324.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>However, I must digress, I just wanted to take a moment today to recognize Eeyore's Birthday, which is not ACTUALLY April 28th. If you study the lore and history of Winnie the Pooh, Eeyore's Birthday is actually noted as falling&nbsp;<span style="background-color: #fae8c7; color: #1a1409; font-family: &quot;lucida grande&quot; , &quot;verdana&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">&nbsp;<a href="http://www.just-pooh.com/eeyore.html" target="_blank">on the 10th of May, 1871 which the date when he was made.</a></span> If I remember correctly, Eeyore was, of course, depressed because he thought his friends had forgotten his birthday, when in fact they had planned a surprise birthday party for him. This happens to us a lot of times in life, we feel things are very bad or we were left out, when something way better than we imagined is the end result, don't you think? Yes we all have a lot of ups and downs, and nothing is ever without its fair share of challenges and difficulties, but if you take a moment to look backward, you might just notice that your track record for making it through, even those moments you thought you were going to fall apart or go crazy? Well so far, you're at 100%!!! That's cause for celebration, in my book. <br /><br />I'll call mine the "I Woke Up This Morning" party. So, as of this moment? Celebrate everything! (That's an order) <br /><br />Speaking of Celebrations, and in honor of good ol' sad-sap Eeyore, it just so happens that in Austin, TX (USA), today (Every April 28th) is <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eeyore%27s_Birthday_Party" target="_blank">Eeyore's Birthday Party</a>. This has been going since 1963 to be exact. It includes live music, food and drink vending which benefit local non-profit organizations, attendees in colorful costumes, and very large drum circles. The event is frequented by children and families, with specific events presented for them by the event organizers. The festival is named in honor of Eeyore, the character in A. A. Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh stories. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eeyore%27s_Birthday_Party" target="_blank">[read all about it here]</a>. <br /><br />Well that's all I wanted to say today, hope you enjoyed and now that you know about his birthday party, I guess if you ever find yourself in Austin, Texas it's something to check out. No matter what we're celebrating today, or any day, though, it's always fun to remember all of those magical times we shared as those sweet, innocent children (the ones who live there within our hearts still), honor them, and let them out to play every once in a while! Life is too short to live otherwise ("<a href="http://www.just-pooh.com/assets/audio/eeyore/ifyouaskme.wav" target="_blank">If You Ask Me", Said Eeyore</a>(wav). Enjoy your weekend everyone. ;-)<br /><br />I Miss My Childhood,<br /><br />Aunt Jackie<br /><br />Eeyore's Birthday Video!<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ytsCnISiCGY" width="560"></iframe>Aunt Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12337893244898589609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-79327368053575713302017-04-25T13:38:00.000-04:002017-04-25T14:30:34.054-04:00Special Brownies<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YZzM9KpQu_o/WP-BFI6clwI/AAAAAAAAQkg/1j1D9_osPIU6wg-Qwrxqd00CurltrBuYACLcB/s1600/22355639.41b8120b.240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YZzM9KpQu_o/WP-BFI6clwI/AAAAAAAAQkg/1j1D9_osPIU6wg-Qwrxqd00CurltrBuYACLcB/s1600/22355639.41b8120b.240.jpg" /></a>We talk about our Moms a lot here on the blogs, but that's because to Chelly and to me, our Mothers were such role models and strong, hard to forget women, just like we aspire to be.<br /><br />Now, to know me as an adult, you would never even imagine me outdoors doing anything remotely close to building a fire, setting up tents or learning to cook in the ground or over a flame. Stepping on a snake, or lying awake all night under the stars while getting eaten alive by Mississippi's state bird (Mosquito) are things that I avoid with every ounce of my soul.&nbsp;<span style="text-align: center;">I mean,&nbsp;<i>my gosh</i>. Girl Scouts are always doing things like cleaning up trash on the highways and getting stung by bees, singing "Kumbaya", hiking in the swelter, mucking around outside in the stinky, muddy, sweaty outdoors.&nbsp;</span>However, there was a time that I, Auntie Jax braved the elements and did my time learning survival skills, earning patches and of course, selling those famous cookies we all know and love. Things have changed a lot over the years, I know, but once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout (if nothing else, by being traumatized by the experiences, or being thoroughly enriched by some of the strengths and habits we were instilled and left with).<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HxisUEDZvWw/WP-BFXV-glI/AAAAAAAAQk8/LGx8_HIuLGEjtYQY0jN_7Z32M6esaZ_lACEw/s1600/f7252cf98ffe15e12399004df0386004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HxisUEDZvWw/WP-BFXV-glI/AAAAAAAAQk8/LGx8_HIuLGEjtYQY0jN_7Z32M6esaZ_lACEw/s200/f7252cf98ffe15e12399004df0386004.jpg" width="143" /></a>My sweet, adoring and sometimes fanatical Mother, you see, was a Girl Scout Leader, eventually earning herself a lifetime membership. She was all things outdoors, loved the lifestyle, adored primitive camping and was in my honest opinion, the epitome of what a true Girl Scout should be. "You always leave things better than you found them." She delighted in passing these values and skills along to us, her daughters and grandchildren too. However, some of us were not quite as enthusiastic about it (mostly me, I think lol). But the principles and lessons learned in Girl Scouts, I admit are wonderful building blocks for us as young women. We could do with a lot more of that today. But alas, I wasn't that happy about it back then. I felt forced, but I appreciate now what my Mother was truly trying to do, ain't that the way it goes?<br /><br />A word about the Girl Scout Motto:&nbsp;The Girl Scout motto is&nbsp;<b>"Be prepared."</b>&nbsp;In the 1947 Girl Scout Handbook, the motto was explained this way: "A Girl Scout is ready to help out wherever she is needed. Willingness to serve is not enough; you must know how to do the job well, even in an emergency." The same holds true today. We began our meetings, always, holding up the Sign with our hands, and reciting our&nbsp;<b>Girl Scout Promise</b>:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>On my honor, I will try:&nbsp;</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>&nbsp; &nbsp; To serve God and my country,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>&nbsp; &nbsp; To help people at all times,&nbsp;</i></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>&nbsp; &nbsp; And to live by the Girl Scout Law.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div>(Read more about&nbsp;<a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&amp;rct=j&amp;q=&amp;esrc=s&amp;source=web&amp;cd=13&amp;cad=rja&amp;uact=8&amp;ved=0ahUKEwi0r4u_jcDTAhXoi1QKHcA9BWoQFghYMAw&amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.girlscouts.org%2Fen%2Fabout-girl-scouts%2Ftraditions.html&amp;usg=AFQjCNE7RNEtRVyzgNSfQomT7U7eABPhBw&amp;sig2=BsX7oB4OrfyVfk98F35_9w" target="_blank">Girl Scout Laws, Promise and Traditions</a>)<br /><br />Day Camp, for me was a particularly dreaded nightmare. All the interaction with other troops and the chores, outdoorsy events and tasks we were charged with, all in the name of scoring those badges to go on our sash. These events were always in the dead heat of a Mississippi / Memphis summer, which you've heard me tell before is something akin to Malebolge.<br /><br />One particular summer, we were attending our usual Day Camp at Arkabutla Lake. It was the usual uncomfortable 'fun' and fanfare, when we planned that Thursday to be an overnight camping stay. Needless to say, I was less than enthused about this. However, that evening rolled around, and our sleeping quarters were set-up, supplies in place. It was not just our troop, but girls from others as well. My niece Stacey (1 year younger than me as I always remind you guys because I was an Auntie at such a tender young age) was in attendance. Once the campfire songs were over and we had cleaned up after our dinner, everyone set out for bedtime. All was quiet until one of the girls from Tunica, Mississippi pulled a knife on another girl, and had to be dealt with. My Mom moved us out of the tent with the 'violent Tunica girls' as she referred to them, and Stacey and I ended up having to rough it outside on a picnic table. As the night drew on, the Mosquitoes descended upon the camp and Stacey and I were both prime targets.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vp4gyhfBrJ0/WP-BFmJBkrI/AAAAAAAAQk0/sMRqeeFQ274hAQSG3WdMtjxrMAWjdQnKwCEw/s1600/girlscoutmom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vp4gyhfBrJ0/WP-BFmJBkrI/AAAAAAAAQk0/sMRqeeFQ274hAQSG3WdMtjxrMAWjdQnKwCEw/s320/girlscoutmom.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">My Mom, The Forever Girl Scout</td></tr></tbody></table>I am struggling to remember if we had any "Off" or other spray. I know that my Mother also knew of the merits of Avon's "Skin So Soft" bath oil, that repels the little blood sucking varmints for some odd reason. However, we must not have had any at our disposal as they were literally trying to carry us away. It was a miserable night. One poor girl was covered in big 'whelps', even worse than me.<br /><br />This ordeal got so bad, that my Mom pulled out these packs of industrial cleaning rags that she had packed away, and began to burn them in pans in an effort to smoke the hordes of mosquitoes out of camp. At one point the Park Rangers came over to see about us and thought we were performing some sort of weird rituals since they spotted the burning rags. Haha! Eventually, the night was over, and we had to power through the very last day of camp on virtually no sleep, little energy and wanting to go home and get back to the comfort of our central AC so badly we could taste it!&nbsp;<i>(or was it the taste of smoke?)</i><br /><br />Either way, I think that was one of the last times I remember going camping with our Troop. Mom somehow kept me in Girl Scouts up through Brownies (which is around middle school level). I never went further than that.<br /><br />Though these experiences were harrowing while we were going through some of them, we really did have a lot of fun times too--I just rarely admit that since I am not much of an outdoorsy gal. There were many laughs, good friends, good food (like S'mores, I adore them to this day!) and of course those famed Cookie Sales. Girl Scouts really is a great thing for many women, and I hope it continues to be something meaningful for girls everywhere throughout the ages, just like it was for my beautiful forever Scout Mom. Hope you're up there in heaven Mom with your fire ring and roasting marshmallows, because I still miss that, and always will miss everything about you. What I wouldn't give to have a weenie roast out in the pasture with you right now.<br /><br />Enjoy these shots of my Mom, a little later in her life, still playing with her fire ring, and reveling in her love of all things outdoors.&nbsp;<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kumbaya" target="_blank">Kumbaya</a>&nbsp;Mama, Kumbaya anytime! xoxo<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gjJlLY7z8uE/WP-BFlJrsZI/AAAAAAAAQk8/9jtAxKLewsoHhPeNrA_prEyyfn59rEh8gCEw/s1600/DSC_0254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gjJlLY7z8uE/WP-BFlJrsZI/AAAAAAAAQk8/9jtAxKLewsoHhPeNrA_prEyyfn59rEh8gCEw/s400/DSC_0254.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">My Mom, while she and I were walking back to her "Fire Ring" she kept at home.&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9ux6Gxd1zhM/WP-BFC8BoiI/AAAAAAAAQk8/y2wQFpc4tfwflQ_3hBplS2580LlZuYG3wCEw/s1600/547946_10150933361016281_1930371692_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9ux6Gxd1zhM/WP-BFC8BoiI/AAAAAAAAQk8/y2wQFpc4tfwflQ_3hBplS2580LlZuYG3wCEw/s400/547946_10150933361016281_1930371692_n.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Mom with one of her mighty<br />German Shepherds enjoying the day</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AXboVh4Qp4M/WP-BFqBbDyI/AAAAAAAAQk8/R3jOhZiEWiIvTqN9oNwIWYbV937PvvH_wCEw/s1600/DSC_0309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AXboVh4Qp4M/WP-BFqBbDyI/AAAAAAAAQk8/R3jOhZiEWiIvTqN9oNwIWYbV937PvvH_wCEw/s400/DSC_0309.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">A Scenic Spot off the highway near my home in<br />Northern Mississippi, Home of my Girl Scout Mother</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: both; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><b><a href="http://www.girlscouts.org/" target="_blank">The Girl Scouts Official Website - What a Rich, Amazing History &amp;gt;&amp;gt;</a></b></div>Aunt Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12337893244898589609noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-64159685916048118502017-04-23T19:37:00.000-04:002017-04-23T19:50:21.239-04:00RIP Erin Moran<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VElbwErl1_Q/WP01C9O5kWI/AAAAAAAAH9U/Grd72xHVUgMOe-Q1EbTkXCYWRF0_g3PnwCLcB/s1600/C-EOCKDUMAA4CV7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VElbwErl1_Q/WP01C9O5kWI/AAAAAAAAH9U/Grd72xHVUgMOe-Q1EbTkXCYWRF0_g3PnwCLcB/s320/C-EOCKDUMAA4CV7.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">October 18, 1960 - April 22, 2017</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/pop-culture/tv/erin-moran-who-played-joanie-happy-days-dead-56-n749791">Erin Moran</a>, the actress famous for playing "Joanie Cunningham" on Happy Days, sadly passed away yesterday April 22, 2017 at the age of 56, in Indiana.<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3nfKsMihug0/WP05R19LBcI/AAAAAAAAH9g/ubp2Qmc53qEEbqAbSgonMo7xxmGWGbFHwCLcB/s1600/em.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3nfKsMihug0/WP05R19LBcI/AAAAAAAAH9g/ubp2Qmc53qEEbqAbSgonMo7xxmGWGbFHwCLcB/s320/em.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of my favourite episodes was when Joanie learns to smoke.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Her former cast mates paid heartfelt tributes to their dear friend:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6zS5i3qJSTI/WP05pskIw3I/AAAAAAAAH9o/eAANFa1Mu1siOeahxxgXhXC3gTkhB7kBgCLcB/s1600/em%2B%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6zS5i3qJSTI/WP05pskIw3I/AAAAAAAAH9o/eAANFa1Mu1siOeahxxgXhXC3gTkhB7kBgCLcB/s1600/em%2B%25284%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">"She would go to school, and she would come back after a break and would have to fit in to all the jokes we were doing on the set and pick up fast exactly where we were — which she could. She was the quickest, fastest little kid. Wonderful. This breaks my heart."—<b>Marion Ross</b></blockquote><br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">Such sad sad news. RIP Erin. I'll always choose to remember you on our show making scenes better, getting laughs and lighting up tv screens. <a href="https://t.co/8HmdL0JKlf">https://t.co/8HmdL0JKlf</a></div>— Ron Howard (@RealRonHoward) <a href="https://twitter.com/RealRonHoward/status/855972685632942080">April 23, 2017</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">So incredibly sad to hear about Erin. A wonderful, sweet, caring, talented woman.I can't really comprehend this right now.Very painful loss</div>— Don Most (@most_don) <a href="https://twitter.com/most_don/status/855955034747437057">April 23, 2017</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">OH Erin... now you will finally have the peace you wanted so badly here on earth ...Rest In It serenely now.. too soon</div>— Henry Winkler (@hwinkler4real) <a href="https://twitter.com/hwinkler4real/status/855961562556751872">April 23, 2017</a></blockquote><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ur0RM5YKgw/WP087NA85JI/AAAAAAAAH90/OXo3QytBXa8Of1-vg9-lsVpOTy7rNA6AQCLcB/s1600/awilliams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ur0RM5YKgw/WP087NA85JI/AAAAAAAAH90/OXo3QytBXa8Of1-vg9-lsVpOTy7rNA6AQCLcB/s640/awilliams.jpg" width="492" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/anson.williams.9/posts/10212015940690314">Click for link</a> to Anson William's post</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-77982313276053568972017-04-17T13:21:00.000-04:002017-04-17T13:27:32.736-04:00Rotten EggsI meant to post a little something for Easter Sunday, and I jarred my back while riding my motorcycle over the weekend, so I was mostly resting with heat and meds.<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C4T4VCsleaw/WPT47gEYEpI/AAAAAAAAQiw/MMCt9Uz8pSIyWhSKhGV5l47ZrqgweUkBwCLcB/s1600/_76355784_rotten-eggs_spl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C4T4VCsleaw/WPT47gEYEpI/AAAAAAAAQiw/MMCt9Uz8pSIyWhSKhGV5l47ZrqgweUkBwCLcB/s200/_76355784_rotten-eggs_spl.jpg" width="200" /></a>My childhood years were spent being spoiled to so many family traditions that I guess I thought would never end, and as we grow up, we are forced to realize that "Nothing Gold Can Stay" (just as the Robert Frost poem tried to tell us).<br /><br />In those early years though, dying Easter eggs with my father on Saturday night (ahh the newspaper, the smell of vinegar, using Mom's cups, those little wire thingys, and mainly just Dad showing me how to do all this), helping with the cooking, and waking up to those baskets full of pretty eggs, candy and goodies was magic. We were always so distraught when we were dragged away from our Easter morning fun to attend the church service (which to us as kids seemed to drag on for hours). Once back home, it was time for the family to all meet there at my childhood home (Mom and Dad's), and eat dinner together, and inevitably do the Easter Egg hunt in the front yard (mostly).<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bZw5v7AV-lE/WPT47nRu3NI/AAAAAAAAQi0/ikDEcrMKPTInZBwdsagX6-5WK5YblVDqQCLcB/s1600/22808_latest_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bZw5v7AV-lE/WPT47nRu3NI/AAAAAAAAQi0/ikDEcrMKPTInZBwdsagX6-5WK5YblVDqQCLcB/s320/22808_latest_large.jpg" width="320" /></a>The "Adults" would make everyone stay in the house while they went outside to hide the eggs in easy as well as crazy-tough spots to make the game challenging at least. Once they came back in, the kids (including me until I was probably about 14) would descend upon the yard in a frenzy, searching high and low, trying to 'one up' each other, and gather the most eggs. Don't really recall having any huge prize, we just enjoyed the process as it was. The funniest thing would be, occasionally the next year one might find an egg from the last year's hunt, which would at this point become a grave stink bomb, if stepped on. That could become quite a nightmare, but something we laugh about even now.<br /><br />Those growing up years had a magic, so inexplicable and strong, the residue of which I still smell from time-to-time (when I close my eyes and think hard enough). Some days it's stronger... or is that the smell of those Rotten eggs? Maybe one of em' is still out there in the yard, undiscovered and protected by the elders of time.<br /><br />There was a mix up on dinner, as I was intent on eating with one of my sisters and her family, whom I don't get to see often enough. The mix-up was just one of those things, when something comes up and their plan switched, so I wasn't aware. I could have gone anywhere to share dinner with any of my family, but with my back pain, I just elected to rest up and go ahead and allow my back to recover.<br /><br />Things happen, as adults we know this, and we know it can't be the same as when we were all fairy dust flinging, magic wand waving little believers. We come to realize that sometimes we may step on a rotten egg, one that may have once been freshly colored, covered in glitter and that sparkled with hope at the time, but that we overlooked, so we just clean up the mess and move on.<br /><br />Besides, things are not always as they seem, and occasionally you find a prize inside an egg that was decorated in a way that only appeared to be rotten.<br /><br /><a href="http://imissmychildhood.blogspot.com/">I Miss My Childhood</a>,<br /><br />Aunt Jackie<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Aunt Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12337893244898589609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-86139308389454463652017-04-08T17:24:00.000-04:002017-04-08T17:27:12.220-04:00Crystal Gayle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6iZq4N9W3Y/TAWPdN6GnjI/AAAAAAAACAQ/lHkxWGWVEDM/s1600/cg1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l6iZq4N9W3Y/TAWPdN6GnjI/AAAAAAAACAQ/lHkxWGWVEDM/s320/cg1.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Crystal Gayle's "<i>We Must Believe in Magic</i>" was part of our eclectic 70s record collection. I recall sitting by our stereo/8-track/record player, listening along with our big ass headphones (the kind with the long curly cord). It was a great way to occupy my time when I was lonely for <b>Mum </b>during her long shifts at the nursing home in the early 80s. I took a fancy to Crystal's lovely voice and especially her hair when I was a kid. I was both in awe of and perplexed by her hair (and also the fact that she was Loretta Lynn's little sister). Even though, my hair reached just below the gluteal region, I still couldn't conceive of someone having floor length hair. As much as I adore long hair, managing it is a nightmare. Ms. Gayle seemed to have it down all the time (I think she still does). I remember her saying it would get caught on door knobs or drag on the floor. I always had my hair in pony tails, braids, french braids or tied up in ribbons—very rarely was it ever down.<br /><br />Hair aside, I loved her music and revered her stint on <b>The Muppet Show</b>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6iZq4N9W3Y/TAWPfKpodfI/AAAAAAAACAY/oFsTnoG6enk/s1600/cg2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6iZq4N9W3Y/TAWPfKpodfI/AAAAAAAACAY/oFsTnoG6enk/s200/cg2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Artist: Crystal Gayle</div><div style="text-align: left;">Album: We Must Believe in Magic<br />Released: 1977<br />Genre: Country<br />Label: United Artists <br />Producer: Allen Reynolds<br />1. "Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue" (Richard Leigh) – 2:37<br />2. "I Wanna Come Back to You" (Johnny Christopher/Samuel Hogin) – 2:54<br />3. "River Road" (Sylvia Fricker Tyson) – 3:08<br />4. "It's All Right with Me" (Cole Porter) – 2:32<br />5. "Going Down Slow" (B. Bond) – 3:41<br />6. "All I Wanna Do in Life" (Allen Reynolds/Sandy Mason Theoret) – 2:26<br />7. "Make a Dream Come True" (Larry Kingston) – 3:06<br />8. "Green Door" (Bobby David/Marvin Moore) – 3:11<br />9. "Funny" (L. Anderson) – 2:05<br />10. "We Must Believe in Magic" (Bob McDill/Allen Reynolds) – 4:09</div><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="236" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/OHTCPkSxHss" width="420"></iframe><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DXnKf4XrRxY" width="420"></iframe>Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-10991616709338790112017-04-04T12:18:00.002-04:002017-04-04T12:31:28.314-04:00Feeling Like an Outsider<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z1QdYtCH_9g/WOPEjr2TVRI/AAAAAAAAQW4/M67dT-9HPiARvgfqNC71kOVRjAbe6zEtACLcB/s1600/feeling_out_of_place.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z1QdYtCH_9g/WOPEjr2TVRI/AAAAAAAAQW4/M67dT-9HPiARvgfqNC71kOVRjAbe6zEtACLcB/s200/feeling_out_of_place.jpg" width="183" /></a></div><div>Throughout all of my school years, I was a bit of a loner, felt like an outsider. I occasionally tried to fit in, I would try to do or say something funny, but it came out awkward since I was so painfully shy. My shyness improved a little as I went along, but never really that much, even by high school. I guess I attribute it to the fact that I was always on the 'chunky' side, you know, a little overweight, and felt like everyone was always hyper-aware of it and made fun of &nbsp;me. In reality, every child in school is struggling to fit in, feel normal and learn to love themselves. Some of them put on such a great act, however, that we are always convinced we are the only one, singled out who doesn't fit in.<br /><br />Now, thanks to social media sites, such as Facebook, Twitter and the like, we have all gotten in touch with all of those people from the "A Group" or "B Group" who we didn't think accepted us, and for the most part are good acquaintances and sometimes have even formed what we deem as unlikely friendships with those people who never gave us a second glance back in our school days (or so we thought). It's funny how we waste time feeling that way, when we could have been friends all of that time, and could have made one another feel good about ourselves, and made those teen years magical instead of so painful as they were at times.</div><div><br /></div><div>Rewind for a moment, back to elementary school. When I began first grade one of my clearest memories was walking around all alone on the playground at recess collecting beautiful fall leaves. I would save these in a safe place, and take them home to my Mother. Do you know that she still had these in her cedar chest until the day she died?&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh and the rain, I remember being excited to be in school on rainy days. The classrooms had a comfortable, soothing darkness to them, and the sounds of the rain made it feel all cozy, at least to me. That same feeling stayed with me throughout my school career. Then if I got lucky enough for a rainy day to be combined with the unexpected surprise of "Movie Day" in English class it was such an awesome bonus!&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh I have always loved books, reading (even if I haven't always read as much as I should, I still love books). Hanging out in the library was such therapy at times, the quiet, the ability to isolate yourself and dive into a story and meet all of your 'real friends'. Is this something that is common among those like myself, who find more comfort in hiding from the world than being trapped in crowds? Maybe.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Nowadays, my laziness has led me to the beloved "Audiobook", which take you to another world if the narrator does the story justice. On the flip side, if the narrator is terrible, it can drag you down into the worst nightmare. Audiobooks are risky. Either way, my preferred order is (if a movie has been turned into a book) to see the movie, and then read or listen to the book, as it fills in all of the details, thus enriching my mind and experience. If done the other way, the movie never fails to disappoint, since it's always going to pale in comparison to a book... Take my advice. Watch the movie, then go read the book, and enjoy discovering the vast secrets and hidden treasures that no Hollywood movie could ever hold.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QHE6xD9Y8lA/WOPEjn1PmcI/AAAAAAAAQW0/277XCfUGVQIaMyloWAf_OIqiHa0PkxUowCEw/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QHE6xD9Y8lA/WOPEjn1PmcI/AAAAAAAAQW0/277XCfUGVQIaMyloWAf_OIqiHa0PkxUowCEw/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div><div>Let us walk now, into my High School English class. Mrs. Jubb had recently introduced us to the heartbreaking page-turner, "The Outsiders" by S.E. Hinton. Within the pages of this book, we were transported into a time where things were simpler, more cut and dry. Friendship was true, your "squad" really did ride or die, had your back and would take a bullet for you (figuratively and literally). Goodreads states, <i>"According to Ponyboy, there are two kinds of people in the world: greasers and socs. A soc (short for "social") has money, can get away with just about anything, and has an attitude longer than a limousine. A greaser, on the other hand, always lives on the outside and needs to watch his back. Ponyboy is a greaser, and he's always been proud of it, even willing to rumble against a gang of socs for the sake of his fellow greasers--until one terrible night when his friend Johnny kills a soc. The murder gets under Ponyboy's skin, causing his bifurcated world to crumble and teaching him that pain feels the same whether a soc or a greaser."</i>&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>So in essence, this story was already trying to illustrate to us these "differences" we chose to have with one another made no difference at all; that every one of us bleeds the same red, grieves a loss and feels the same crushing devastation through life's pain. Yet most of us choose to treat one another as "Outsiders", not even giving ourselves a chance to get to know each another before making such judgments, and missing out on knowing some amazing fellow travelers of this harsh world.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o-DHcvh5SDo/WOPEjTlZFpI/AAAAAAAAQWw/KlbbG5HrLDscw-gaqRbsadLWQbpPe62OACEw/s1600/1ca1ce23-ce42-412c-9494-2a085916b13b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o-DHcvh5SDo/WOPEjTlZFpI/AAAAAAAAQWw/KlbbG5HrLDscw-gaqRbsadLWQbpPe62OACEw/s320/1ca1ce23-ce42-412c-9494-2a085916b13b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>One magical rainy Monday morning, we walk into class, and lo and behold Mrs. Jubb has the VCR set-up which immediately gave you that little thrill in the pit of your stomach, knowing that at least the next couple of days would be spent with the lights out, watching the teacher's selected movie. We had read the book, now she was bringing us the film version of "The Outsiders". Though this wasn't my preferred, order, in those days we offered no complaints. I mean, class movie day was movie day, right? We were all just relieved for the treat of not really having to think for a period.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QhchledimVE/WOPEjUuO9wI/AAAAAAAAQWo/Oky8s9T6qz8yP_d6WD1ItaNkpmdG62yLgCEw/s1600/20503434._SY540_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QhchledimVE/WOPEjUuO9wI/AAAAAAAAQWo/Oky8s9T6qz8yP_d6WD1ItaNkpmdG62yLgCEw/s200/20503434._SY540_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div>Oh the movie brought the characters to life, and of course we all picked out our favorites, formed our "crushes" on some of the characters, and it gave us faces to put with those immortalized in the drama on screen there, in our cozy little classroom. All of us there, from different walks of life but at the time worried about the same issues, deadlines and commitments since we were young, and tests, reports and who didn't like us were our biggest worries. Funny how that can still seem true, even now, but we think that the issues are REAL since we are adults... so we let the pressures of "reality", and "time" (both of which are illusions) cause us to go out into the big bad world, and through our actions, leave someone else Feeling Like an Outsider.</div><div><br /></div><div>I think we should go back and catch up on our reading and try to remember the feeling.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Life Turns On a Dime." (S.K.)</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Tempus Fugit." (S.K.)</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Stay Gold" (S.E.H.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Besides, Nothing Gold Can Stay... right? Life is a temporary condition. ;-)</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v04Ayp9AtGU/WOPEjd2Y0mI/AAAAAAAAQWs/daLzgRCF7t8X3IYdYBwlDpK9q_Jce9HogCEw/s1600/20503435._SX540_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v04Ayp9AtGU/WOPEjd2Y0mI/AAAAAAAAQWs/daLzgRCF7t8X3IYdYBwlDpK9q_Jce9HogCEw/s640/20503435._SX540_.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing Gold Can Stay (Robert Frost)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />I Miss My Childhood, Aunt Jackie (Jax)Aunt Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12337893244898589609noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-24832228259296267722017-03-31T13:19:00.003-04:002017-03-31T13:32:25.877-04:00Crayola DazeLife is uncertain, so let's continue finding something to celebrate every day. Now, I am not the most consistent person when it comes to my trends, or my writing. I am trying hard to make the effort. You can keep encouraging me. I have included today's list below, and out of these, I chose "National Crayola Crayon Day" as it peaks my inner child's artistic enthusiasm, as well as reminds me of a funny story about myself and my heart-thumping 5th/6th grade crush, Ken.<br /><br />Oh lord, Ken... He and his family were from deep in the heart of Texas. Ken was the middle son of three boys, and six years my senior. With that rich, Texan drawl, and his sky blue eyes and sandy hair, he was the wild child star of my middle school dreams (insert hilarious giggle there). His parents and my parents were best friends, they hung out and visited one another, had dinners, coffee, played dominoes, all that. &nbsp;Funny how you think at that age, but I was convinced that if I could just have one good opportunity to sit down and talk to him, that I could surely win his heart!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O_fD5_9dOEA/WN6Ef6OBjOI/AAAAAAAAQVs/TTOSuiMNBXUwYIdA3JuxTB7tnKnKpIT8QCLcB/s1600/9ca763d367f0f093d55a86b1096fa2ee_alright-alright-alright-matthew-mcconaughey-meme-alright_300-224.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O_fD5_9dOEA/WN6Ef6OBjOI/AAAAAAAAQVs/TTOSuiMNBXUwYIdA3JuxTB7tnKnKpIT8QCLcB/s1600/9ca763d367f0f093d55a86b1096fa2ee_alright-alright-alright-matthew-mcconaughey-meme-alright_300-224.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">I was just a young girl, Crayola Dazed and Confused.<br /><div><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table>Christmas was upon us, with its frosty air and magical miracles, making just about anything possible. Just as luck would have it, Christmas Day, Mom and Dad's friends (his Mom and Dad) had invited us to come by a little later for snacks, or dinner, or something I don't quite remember exactly. You see, my family always had our big dinner and gift exchange on Christmas Eve, so Christmas morning was spent, each of my sisters individual families, home with the children opening up their own "Santy-clause gifts". Therefore, we were free for visiting.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S7gjN5bJkIQ/WN6HfP0G6eI/AAAAAAAAQV4/SeostN2NuDMgCjZO3qVMflY4nyB-IJcegCLcB/s1600/91c11bcae885fc4b0680f310e67f09aa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S7gjN5bJkIQ/WN6HfP0G6eI/AAAAAAAAQV4/SeostN2NuDMgCjZO3qVMflY4nyB-IJcegCLcB/s320/91c11bcae885fc4b0680f310e67f09aa.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>In a mad panic, I flew to my room, and began to "gussy up", as the old folks might say. I dug into my collection of play make-up, and began to paint myself up to the height of glamour with my sexy "Crayola brand Eyeshadow" in Birds Egg Blue, nonetheless. Rarely had I gotten my makeup so perfect, I thought in my childish little brain. I was set. This was it, the night that I would bend my destiny to be the next Mrs. Ken ___man. He would surely fall prey to my Crayola magic spell.<br /><br />Not sure if anybody remembers this stuff, but funny.<br /><br />We jump in Dad's car, and descend down the driveway, my mind racing, my heart pounding.&nbsp;<i>'I'm going to see him, this is it. Oh to be near him, breathing the same oxygen.'</i>&nbsp;I thought, frantically in my heaving panic. As we rolled up their driveway, my knees grew weaker... praying I would know what to say, what to do, and even to get the proper moment alone with Ken to weave him into my web of love. What could possibly go wrong? The timing was so right, there wasn't a thing to worry about.<br /><br />The ___mans greeted us with smiles, inviting us in. Of course the parents were all in their usual, nonsensical, adult holiday banter, I nervously stood in the living room (the t.v. buzzing in the background, some now-ancient football game). Looking around, I see his younger brother Craig, sitting on the couch. Feeling so nervous and shaky that I could tip over at the slightest breeze, turn my head just as Ken comes out of the Kitchen. He meets my gaze.<br /><br />"Yew wanna siddown, Jaacckie??" he bellows, in his thick as Texas oil accent.<br /><br />After all that smooth-talk planning, I could not find a human English word in my body, my throat was dry and I couldn't seem to muster a sound from anywhere.&nbsp;<i>'What is wrong with you, Idiot? This is your destiny, your chance. You're screwing up, SAYYY SOMETHINGGG!!!'</i>&nbsp;I simply stood there breathing, as I looked around at the chair he was gesturing to... teetered backwards, and sat as I nodded, retardedly, staring up into the overcast sky that was his eyes.<br /><br />Mesmerized, I attempted a sexy smile (as if, with my awkward 5th grade goober self). &nbsp;The room suddenly felt ice cold as my heart thumped heavily in my chest. Ken stepped into the kitchen for a moment, and I tried to gather my senses, and straighten up and act like the grown-up I so wanted to be in that moment. Suddenly, he emerges back in the living room with his glass of sweet tea in his hand. With a lovely southern smile, he looked at me and velvetly beckoned &nbsp;"Jaaacckkieeee? Yew wawnnt som' Chicken an' Dressin??" His voice... his words swept over me like some delicious tropical breeze. At that very moment, the gods shined upon me and there was nobody else in the room except Him... and Me.&nbsp;<i>'Oh this is just like I planned it. I am going to talk to him now, and tell him exactly how I feel. Once he understands how much I love him, he will realize he feels the same way and he will be mine!! This is it, okay... Ken, get ready to fall in love. This is so meant to be...'</i>&nbsp;I thought, madly, as I moistened my throat and finally found words.<br /><br />I looked him square in his baby blues, opened my mouth, and in a shy, high-pitched mouse's voice, squeaked out raggedly...<br /><br />"Nooo thank yeww!!"<br /><br />The moment was gone, lost in a glimmer of 'just my luck', my timidness and ultimate stupidity, never to be found again, I was sure.<br /><br />Just as full, warm and larger than life as he had been standing before me, in a fast ghost breeze he was gone, muttering something to his parents about leaving for his girlfriend's house and that he would see them later. I sat there, heart sinking into my stomach, wondering why I was such a scared little loser and why I couldn't have just done everything right like I had rehearsed in my head. <i>'Maybe next time, I'll have more time, I can win his heart... I'll get it right... next time.'</i> If there is a next time... I don't think there really was.<br /><br />Numbly, I sat, waiting for my parents' visit with the ___man's to be over, and we rode home, my visions of how I could have done better skipping through my head. We walk into our still Christmas glitter laden house, and I mope back to the bathroom, look in the mirror and to my horror, I see that my trusty and glamorous "Crayola Eyeshadow" has half melted off, sometime in the evening, and that I had bared my soul with shadow only on one eye, and smeared lipstick. Looking like a greasy little baby who'd been playing with Mom's make-up.<br /><br />So much for mesmerizing him with my womanly wiles. Childhood, isn't it just funny looking back?<br /><br />Happy Crayola Crayon Day, Other favorite holiday, or whatever you choose to remember and celebrate today. Hey, it's YOU, it's LIFE. That's all the reason we need to clink glasses and cheer. Enjoy, and read about the rest of them below.<br /><br />Just me,<br />Jax<br /><br /><hr />Some of these little 'obscure' or little-known holiday observations are pretty self-explanatory and some of them may boggle the brain, and leave you unsure of their origin. There's always Google.com but I will try to cue you in if I can (in parenthesis).<br /><br />Today's Oddball Holidays (3/31):<br /><ul><li>César Chávez Day</li><li>Dance Marathon Day</li><li>Eiffel Tower Day</li><li>National "She's Funny That Way" Day (female comediennes and other ladies who make your day just more comical and easy to smile thorugh, like me)</li><li>National Bunsen Burner Day</li><li>National Clams on the Half Shell Day</li><li>National Crayola Crayon Day</li><li>National Farm Workers Day</li><li>National Tater Day</li><li>No Homework Day&nbsp;<i>(Observed the last Friday of March and annually on May 6th)</i></li><li>Terri's Day</li><li>World Backup Day (back up all your data, well do this regularly anyway)</li></ul><div>Actually, from another source, this Facebook page dedicated to "Holidays that Might Get Overlooked" I cite the following, "<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Today, Friday, March 31st, 2017, is&nbsp;</span><a aria-controls="js_1n4" aria-describedby="js_1n5" aria-haspopup="true" class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/event.php?id=351807591886345&amp;extragetparams=%7B%22source%22%3A3%2C%22source_newsfeed_story_type%22%3A%22regular%22%2C%22action_history%22%3A%22%5B%7B%5C%22surface%5C%22%3A%5C%22newsfeed%5C%22%2C%5C%22mechanism%5C%22%3A%5C%22feed_story%5C%22%2C%5C%22extra_data%5C%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D%22%2C%22has_source%22%3Atrue%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/events/351807591886345/?acontext=%7B%22source%22%3A3%2C%22source_newsfeed_story_type%22%3A%22regular%22%2C%22action_history%22%3A%22%5B%7B%5C%22surface%5C%22%3A%5C%22newsfeed%5C%22%2C%5C%22mechanism%5C%22%3A%5C%22feed_story%5C%22%2C%5C%22extra_data%5C%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D%22%2C%22has_source%22%3Atrue%7D&amp;source=3&amp;source_newsfeed_story_type=regular&amp;action_history=%5B%7B%22surface%22%3A%22newsfeed%22%2C%22mechanism%22%3A%22feed_story%22%2C%22extra_data%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D&amp;has_source=1" id="js_1n6" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">National Clams on a Half Shell Day</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">,&nbsp;</span><a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=172415666141076" href="https://www.facebook.com/WorldBackupDay/" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">World Backup Day</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">, National "She's Funny That Way" Day,&nbsp;</span><a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/event.php?id=158786951303751&amp;extragetparams=%7B%22source%22%3A3%2C%22source_newsfeed_story_type%22%3A%22regular%22%2C%22action_history%22%3A%22%5B%7B%5C%22surface%5C%22%3A%5C%22newsfeed%5C%22%2C%5C%22mechanism%5C%22%3A%5C%22feed_story%5C%22%2C%5C%22extra_data%5C%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D%22%2C%22has_source%22%3Atrue%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/events/158786951303751/?acontext=%7B%22source%22%3A3%2C%22source_newsfeed_story_type%22%3A%22regular%22%2C%22action_history%22%3A%22%5B%7B%5C%22surface%5C%22%3A%5C%22newsfeed%5C%22%2C%5C%22mechanism%5C%22%3A%5C%22feed_story%5C%22%2C%5C%22extra_data%5C%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D%22%2C%22has_source%22%3Atrue%7D&amp;source=3&amp;source_newsfeed_story_type=regular&amp;action_history=%5B%7B%22surface%22%3A%22newsfeed%22%2C%22mechanism%22%3A%22feed_story%22%2C%22extra_data%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D&amp;has_source=1" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">International Hug a Medievalist Day</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">, International&nbsp;</span><a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=530376300457168" href="https://www.facebook.com/TransDayofVisibility/" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">Transgender Day of Visibility</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">,&nbsp;</span><a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/event.php?id=128453354235658&amp;extragetparams=%7B%22source%22%3A3%2C%22source_newsfeed_story_type%22%3A%22regular%22%2C%22action_history%22%3A%22%5B%7B%5C%22surface%5C%22%3A%5C%22newsfeed%5C%22%2C%5C%22mechanism%5C%22%3A%5C%22feed_story%5C%22%2C%5C%22extra_data%5C%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D%22%2C%22has_source%22%3Atrue%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/events/128453354235658/?acontext=%7B%22source%22%3A3%2C%22source_newsfeed_story_type%22%3A%22regular%22%2C%22action_history%22%3A%22%5B%7B%5C%22surface%5C%22%3A%5C%22newsfeed%5C%22%2C%5C%22mechanism%5C%22%3A%5C%22feed_story%5C%22%2C%5C%22extra_data%5C%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D%22%2C%22has_source%22%3Atrue%7D&amp;source=3&amp;source_newsfeed_story_type=regular&amp;action_history=%5B%7B%22surface%22%3A%22newsfeed%22%2C%22mechanism%22%3A%22feed_story%22%2C%22extra_data%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D&amp;has_source=1" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">Tater Day</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">,&nbsp;</span><a aria-controls="js_2fk" aria-describedby="js_2fl" aria-haspopup="true" class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/event.php?id=1764869433828683&amp;extragetparams=%7B%22source%22%3A3%2C%22source_newsfeed_story_type%22%3A%22regular%22%2C%22action_history%22%3A%22%5B%7B%5C%22surface%5C%22%3A%5C%22newsfeed%5C%22%2C%5C%22mechanism%5C%22%3A%5C%22feed_story%5C%22%2C%5C%22extra_data%5C%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D%22%2C%22has_source%22%3Atrue%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1764869433828683/?acontext=%7B%22source%22%3A3%2C%22source_newsfeed_story_type%22%3A%22regular%22%2C%22action_history%22%3A%22%5B%7B%5C%22surface%5C%22%3A%5C%22newsfeed%5C%22%2C%5C%22mechanism%5C%22%3A%5C%22feed_story%5C%22%2C%5C%22extra_data%5C%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D%22%2C%22has_source%22%3Atrue%7D&amp;source=3&amp;source_newsfeed_story_type=regular&amp;action_history=%5B%7B%22surface%22%3A%22newsfeed%22%2C%22mechanism%22%3A%22feed_story%22%2C%22extra_data%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D&amp;has_source=1" id="js_2fm" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">National Prom Day</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">,&nbsp;</span><a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=306762602761305" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Eiffel-Tower/306762602761305" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">The Eiffel Tower</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">&nbsp;Day, Oranges And Lemons Day, Terri's Day,&nbsp;</span><a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=139758702717287" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Caesar-Chavez/139758702717287" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">Caesar Chavez</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">&nbsp;Day (California),&nbsp;</span><a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=133452686695610" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Thomas-Mundy-Peterson/133452686695610" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">Thomas Mundy Peterson</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">&nbsp;Day (NJ), Feast Day of&nbsp;</span><a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=151600588244065" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Saint-Balbina/151600588244065" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;">Saint Balbina</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">&nbsp;(patron against diseases of the lymph glands, scrofula), Lunaria (ancient Rome), and Sacred</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">&nbsp;Drama Day (ancient Babylon)." &nbsp;Might provide a little more info if you're interested.</span></div>Aunt Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12337893244898589609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-51163360012142440962017-03-23T17:02:00.000-04:002017-03-24T10:03:52.748-04:00On The Heels of WinterMemphis weather is fickle if not bitchy at times. One day, spring has sprung with all of its warmth, color and glory, and the next day Mother Nature is on her period and brings us a cold snap complete with ice and snow. Everyone rushes out to the stores to pick up their emergency stock of bread and milk in case they die in the tragic freeze (which lasts until about 6 p.m.), then it's back to business as usual. Spring comes in on the heels of winter, rarely a smooth transition but once it begins to even out, the short magical spell lasts maybe a week or two before rushing head first into the melt of summer, which is hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell...<br />&nbsp; *(with a side of mud and bugs).<br /><br />Through this sweet handful of days where we get to feel that hope, perfect temperatures and spirit of renewal, I am usually reminded of a few delightful childhood memories.<br /><br />This morning I was reflecting on just one particular such memory, which I am pretty certain was about 6th grade (I wanted to say fifth but I am embarrassed to say I can't say for sure).<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iDk1kEyZ8-8/WNRv6D3nKII/AAAAAAAAH8E/WZUyNJsfvKM78eMEp5q9B12zW1vc-XQxACLcB/s1600/candies1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iDk1kEyZ8-8/WNRv6D3nKII/AAAAAAAAH8E/WZUyNJsfvKM78eMEp5q9B12zW1vc-XQxACLcB/s1600/candies1.jpg" /></a></div>When you're 10 or 11, and your Mom takes you for that first pair of official "heels", the excitement is just immeasurable. In fact, everything you get to do as a kid seems magical that way. They were little, tan leather "slip on" heels (my first "Candie's"). I couldn't wait to wear them, learn to walk in these heels. I felt like such a grown up. Though they were slip-ons, I remember trying them out with hosiery. Back then, I always thought my legs looked so great with the stockings on since I've always been pale, the stockings made me feel tan. Not so much now, I hate tangling with them, profusely! You might catch me giving in to the need for hosiery on special occasions, if you're lucky. So anyways, little me... I clomped around in my amazing grown-up little high heeled shoes, really thinking I was 'somethin else' as we say in the south. I practiced as much as possible, and tried feverishly to get as good as my mother at walking in these big girl heels.&nbsp; <br /><br />When I say my mother amazed me, seriously, she had a closet full of so many types of heels (all classy, my mother was indeed no slouch). Some had the tiniest little 'nail-like' quality to them, some were normal, and some of course were thicker. I wonder if she had ever thrown away a pair of shoes. It looked to me like she kept every pair from all eras, and I was just hypnotized. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pbs-OF0VDO4/WNRwQlJ354I/AAAAAAAAH8I/Qy5QUyCY1w0p3m4raj70YHfBAgGk3SUXQCLcB/s1600/download2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pbs-OF0VDO4/WNRwQlJ354I/AAAAAAAAH8I/Qy5QUyCY1w0p3m4raj70YHfBAgGk3SUXQCLcB/s200/download2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I think her favorite shoes to wear were these cute little black boots, not but just over the ankle, guess you could call them "granny boots". She settled on a pair and wore them, thus actually rocking them with almost any outfit. She wore them during her time working as one of the "demo ladies" at Walmart, she wore them with jeans, pant suits, skirts. You name it. <br />She wore them so much the heels wore down to a frazzle. It was at this point that I, being the admirable doting daughter I was, took them to a local cobbler near where I worked, and had the heels redone so she could wear them even longer.<br /><br />As much as I admired my mother's ability to completely win at the heel game, and even though she taught us to always dress as classy as possible, I still never really got the hang of heels, nor did I develop a very big passion for shoes, or shopping. To this day, the thought of having to go pick out new outfits and shoes leaves me in dread, my attitude quite lackluster. It's really sad because I would give anything to carry it all off the way she did.<br /><br />So here I am at work on a pretty warm day, still early in this season just thinking of all of these delightful things that such a hopeful time of year can bring to mind. Missing my Mom and Dad, because they're the two biggest reasons I had such an amazing childhood. Yes, here I sit in my not-truly-appropriate for office flat tennis shoes, reminiscing on a time (some lovely time somewhere in the south in spring) that a hopeful "young lady", still unscathed by the harsh realities of life was there, trying to find a little glamour and grace, trying to learn to walk or rather, 'spring in' to young adulthood on the cool heels of winter.<br /><br />I Miss My Childhood,<br /><br />Aunt Jackie (Jax)<br /><br /><br /><div style="background-color: white; font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;;"><br /></div>Aunt Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12337893244898589609noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-87415455365236971432017-01-26T00:39:00.000-05:002017-01-26T12:47:24.423-05:00RIP Mary Tyler Moore<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tMU1tohCmRc/WImJZo_7P0I/AAAAAAAAH6E/ke7uE56fj0cIMEyY9FUCi3Av5p1w5u7aQCLcB/s1600/mtm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tMU1tohCmRc/WImJZo_7P0I/AAAAAAAAH6E/ke7uE56fj0cIMEyY9FUCi3Av5p1w5u7aQCLcB/s400/mtm.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">December 29, 1936 - January 25, 2017</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en"><a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/marytylermoore?src=hash">#marytylermoore</a> my heart goes out to you and your family. Know that I love you and believe in your strength.</div>— Ed Asner (@TheOnlyEdAsner) <a href="https://twitter.com/TheOnlyEdAsner/status/824342329553096704">January 25, 2017</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">A great lady I loved and owe so much to has left us. I will miss her. I will never be able to repay her for the blessings that she gave me.</div>— Ed Asner (@TheOnlyEdAsner) <a href="https://twitter.com/TheOnlyEdAsner/status/824367848495538176">January 25, 2017</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">There are no words. <br />She was THE BEST!<br />We always said that we changed each other's lives for the better.<br />I... <a href="https://t.co/Xm8OBbQQ8j">https://t.co/Xm8OBbQQ8j</a></div>— Dick Van Dyke (@iammrvandy) <a href="https://twitter.com/iammrvandy/status/824409712636473344">January 26, 2017</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-3492048734992069972016-12-15T16:42:00.000-05:002016-12-15T16:46:01.191-05:00Retro Episodes of Tiny Talent Time, Anyone?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KxycQ7t6G3o/WFMKRzdFHjI/AAAAAAAAH2g/_CjyR7dSftcdIF3sEt7EqVYyX6sw-eeZwCLcB/s1600/tiny_talent_vintage.jpg.size.custom.crop.1086x718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KxycQ7t6G3o/WFMKRzdFHjI/AAAAAAAAH2g/_CjyR7dSftcdIF3sEt7EqVYyX6sw-eeZwCLcB/s400/tiny_talent_vintage.jpg.size.custom.crop.1086x718.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill Lawrence with performer, 1974. <br />Photo: <a href="https://www.thestar.com/entertainment/television/2014/09/05/new_tiny_talent_time_debuts_sept_6_on_chch.html">B. King</a> (Toronto Star)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Received a <a href="http://imissmychildhood.blogspot.ca/2008/06/tiny-talent-time.html">lovely comment</a> from a sibling of a former Tiny Talent Time performer asking if anyone had recorded <b>old episodes</b> of the show from <b>1982</b>,<b> </b>with the hopes of finding footage of her sister tap dancing on the show. <br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><i>"My sister Jennifer Aucoin was on Tiny Talent Time in/around 1982... anyone out there have a home copy of any of that years shows? Our family didn't have a video recording device yet but I know they were starting to become popular around that time... I'm hoping that maybe someone else out there may have a tape of it... not sure what the air date was.. she was wearing a white fluffy dress with red polka dots and I believe her routine was a tap dance to the song 'chirpy chirpy cheep cheep'? Would love to get a copy for our family. I think it would be cool if everyone who had any recordings from the original runs would share them, we could probably make our own archive of the show... even if CHCH didn't save them... I know it would bring great joy to a lot of people to be able to share their moments of fame."—Amanda Aucoin</i></blockquote><br /><br />Love the idea of fans creating an archive of old footage. Can anyone help out Amanda? Fingers crossed.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BPC8tUd4laY/WFMKDTOZ1WI/AAAAAAAAH2c/K20Mh1wrVP83dDsgNYIeuaQk6Dbm2CkvwCEw/s1600/ttt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BPC8tUd4laY/WFMKDTOZ1WI/AAAAAAAAH2c/K20Mh1wrVP83dDsgNYIeuaQk6Dbm2CkvwCEw/s400/ttt.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-33509064941331394492016-12-04T12:54:00.000-05:002016-12-04T12:54:35.688-05:00'Tis the Season<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VUgLP9BhrYI/WERXj-EbKcI/AAAAAAAAH0k/N-u0xpNIPwEvZLKs5XCDAaYA6XqXrt0xACLcB/s1600/STEVE_FINAL-3_zps2g505xer_38068f20-4cb3-405f-8ade-8d089003d1a7_1024x1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VUgLP9BhrYI/WERXj-EbKcI/AAAAAAAAH0k/N-u0xpNIPwEvZLKs5XCDAaYA6XqXrt0xACLcB/s640/STEVE_FINAL-3_zps2g505xer_38068f20-4cb3-405f-8ade-8d089003d1a7_1024x1024.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://darkhallmansionstore.com/products/steve-thomas-a-peanuts-christmas-18-x-24-snoopy-and-santa-edition-of-150">Steve Thomas</a> (Dark Hall Mansion)</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-3083285621951579742016-11-28T13:14:00.002-05:002016-11-28T13:17:19.290-05:00RIP Ron Glass<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FWi_H9_0njM/WDxuoZZIdSI/AAAAAAAAHz0/xr5ic7etLT8G1mkKFU1tgKK4WgGljEdOwCLcB/s1600/ronglass2-7423c253-c3f1-493a-aa0c-1531ae2fb049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FWi_H9_0njM/WDxuoZZIdSI/AAAAAAAAHz0/xr5ic7etLT8G1mkKFU1tgKK4WgGljEdOwCLcB/s400/ronglass2-7423c253-c3f1-493a-aa0c-1531ae2fb049.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ron Glass, Jack Soo, Hal Linden (Barney Miller)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Ron Glass (1945-2016) had a <b>long </b>and <b>vibrant </b>career in television and film but I'll always fondly remember him for his portrayal of the suave Detective Ron Harris on that classic 70s police ensemble sitcom: Barney Miller (1975-1982). Barney Miller was just one of those iconic television comedies with a gloriously talented cast that were offered to us in abundance back in the day. Glass was my mother's favourite, her face would light up every time he appeared on the screen. <i>"I like his smile! He makes me happy."</i> she would often say.<br /><br />Indeed. <a href="http://www.ew.com/article/2016/11/26/ron-glass-dead-barney-miller-firely-star-dies-71">RIP Mr. Glass</a>.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-846_Tj_qo8o/WDxzdc0ek3I/AAAAAAAAH0A/BVzO3UlnzIIwnz8GszDYIf7RLPsC9YqhgCLcB/s1600/barney-miller-dvd-review-cast-photo-825x580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-846_Tj_qo8o/WDxzdc0ek3I/AAAAAAAAH0A/BVzO3UlnzIIwnz8GszDYIf7RLPsC9YqhgCLcB/s320/barney-miller-dvd-review-cast-photo-825x580.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cast of Barney Miller (1974)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-61187815933111830032016-11-25T15:56:00.000-05:002016-11-25T19:06:48.817-05:00RIP Florence HendersonThis one really hurts.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QZzrRmLurrU/WDih8VuI8OI/AAAAAAAAHzQ/R0BwSa5CxjcFTYiDmJ3MSMNfOp2XeQyXgCLcB/s1600/MTE5NDg0MDU1MTg4MzA5NTE5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QZzrRmLurrU/WDih8VuI8OI/AAAAAAAAHzQ/R0BwSa5CxjcFTYiDmJ3MSMNfOp2XeQyXgCLcB/s400/MTE5NDg0MDU1MTg4MzA5NTE5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Florence Henderson 1934-2016</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />The world's beloved TV-Mom, Florence Henderson (a.k.a Carol Brady) sadly <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/florence-henderson-dead_us_5837d277e4b01ba68ac456d9">passed away</a> yesterday, November 24, 2016 (Thanksgiving Day in America) at the age of 82.<br /><br />How blessed we all were to have her vibrant and kind energy in our lives as we made our way through childhood (and beyond). Who could ever forget that melodic voice? A fierce talent and a gem of a lady. RIP.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3g3idr2ms1I/WDijXzS4G-I/AAAAAAAAHzc/UjXuyBDTjLs5GGQutcFOyIAeGOy_HKPwgCLcB/s1600/CyIDPCTXUAAVdVf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3g3idr2ms1I/WDijXzS4G-I/AAAAAAAAHzc/UjXuyBDTjLs5GGQutcFOyIAeGOy_HKPwgCLcB/s320/CyIDPCTXUAAVdVf.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">Florence Henderson was a dear friend for so very many years &amp; in my &lt;3 forever. Love &amp; hugs to her family. I'll miss u dearly <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/RIPFlorence?src=hash">#RIPFlorence</a></div>— Maureen McCormick (@MoMcCormick7) <a href="https://twitter.com/MoMcCormick7/status/802035750912937988">November 25, 2016</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">You are in my heart forever Florence💕 <a href="https://t.co/PABCuPubA2">pic.twitter.com/PABCuPubA2</a></div>— Maureen McCormick (@MoMcCormick7) <a href="https://twitter.com/MoMcCormick7/status/802038231294320640">November 25, 2016</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">Deeply saddened. Florence was one of the most gracious people I have ever known, Proud to call her Mom and life long friend. <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/RIPFlorence?src=hash">#RIPFlorence</a></div>— Barry Williams (@MrBarryWilliams) <a href="https://twitter.com/MrBarryWilliams/status/802126621314531332">November 25, 2016</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="und"><a href="https://t.co/0JoPg6nzx6">pic.twitter.com/0JoPg6nzx6</a></div>— Eve Plumb (@Therealeveplumb) <a href="https://twitter.com/Therealeveplumb/status/802232587167133696">November 25, 2016</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script> <br /><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><div dir="ltr" lang="en">I grieve for the passing of my dear friend, Florence. Privileged to have known her and the kindness of her heart. She will be missed. RIP <a href="https://t.co/Wu1ujaycHW">pic.twitter.com/Wu1ujaycHW</a></div>— Christopher Knight (@ChrisKnightHome) <a href="https://twitter.com/ChrisKnightHome/status/802200667418927105">November 25, 2016</a></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-84900151950833951152016-11-16T15:35:00.000-05:002016-11-16T15:42:06.915-05:00Random Brady Pic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8242cmyJAzI/WCzEkc_8pMI/AAAAAAAAHyQ/6DRwGofMq2cvlREHI84EUCWz0bqSMJt7QCLcB/s1600/pete2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8242cmyJAzI/WCzEkc_8pMI/AAAAAAAAHyQ/6DRwGofMq2cvlREHI84EUCWz0bqSMJt7QCLcB/s400/pete2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Peter Brady and Arthur Owens<br /><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0531162/">Two Petes in a Pod</a>, The Brady Bunch (1974)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />That moment when a transfer student with glasses is actually your doppelganger. Hilarity, the ol' switcheroo and <b>groovy dance moves</b> ensue. One of my favourite Brady episodes.<br /><br /><br />Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30206167.post-43798577657480358942016-10-21T02:10:00.001-04:002016-10-21T02:10:52.761-04:00Dear Great Pumpkin...<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iRIg8AZSNfg/WAmw-zhw6EI/AAAAAAAAHxA/kaK_ASYZMiIIdZUaBfioV1U61FFe7QYzwCLcB/s1600/CvNsFYVXgAAyAPg.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iRIg8AZSNfg/WAmw-zhw6EI/AAAAAAAAHxA/kaK_ASYZMiIIdZUaBfioV1U61FFe7QYzwCLcB/s400/CvNsFYVXgAAyAPg.jpg" width="400" /></a>Chellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02719884981922328995noreply@blogger.com0